See the link
I think it is true, that we start enjoying
pain after such incidents. We will translate them into music,
art, or poetry. The question is, can we do something before such
incidents take place? The answer will be "yes," but again the
question will be "how"? Can we adopt constructive measures to
stop violence and war? Can we use art in such a way that we all
start enjoying love and friendship? This does not mean that art
is only for happiness, it should also highlight the darkness of
society. Art should act as a mirror accentuating all the shades
of society, but at the same time it should underline hope,
happiness and friendship. We cannot assure the success of art
hundred percent. But the message given by art is most important
in these times.
I feel that in this age of vindictiveness, an artist or a poet
(a writer may be) should come forward to take responsibilities.
It is not the time to brood over the unfortunate events,
reveling in our own pain. It is not the time to live in our own
One day I paint a self-portrait
Of someone else. I say to her,
'You live this life.' I walk away
Singing the red-winged
Blackbirdís song for dawn.
Pat Hogan King
Do you believe
Survival instinct will die
Faith will fade away
Dream will perish
Words will go in vain .
VishvaNath prasad Tiwari
Correct me once
For one mistake
And I will hear
Correct me twice
And I will hear you, too
But I cannot help
But close my ear
If you correct me
Ten times for
I stretch out the water
in which you are reflected.
With a shout to stop
all possible outflows.
I address you by breath
such release of speech.
Until you are glassy with ice before me...
Appears on my palms..
I wish I could stalk
It is tough
writing about poetry. Our understanding about poetry is diverse
and always evolving. From ancient theories of Bhartrihari's "Sabdatattva"
to Derrida's "differance" in spoken and inscribed language,
poetry has shown possibilities that we are still exploring. As
our observations about the world around us gets stratified,
condensed and co-opted, our poetry grows like vines over old or
new structures, whether as part of our conscious landscaping or
What can we do in the name of poetry? Very simple things, almost
un-esoteric and rather commonplace until it turns into a rhythm
guiding us deeper inside our own selves and making us see the
external world as a magnanimous companion to our variegated
existence. Here's a list I once made about what we could or I
could do in the name of poetry:...
a meadow again
across the sky of your eye-is me
and upon me, dwells
the leafless stem of your being.
dwell upon me
like a prayer
and dissolve in the rhythm of this void
in this sky will the clouds gather-
and you will be nurtured with your own water, again,
and wear me,
like new leaves!
Time that now breathes its last,
like a hungering, thirsting, cringing sheep
will graze me like a joyous lamb
you will be a meadow again!
Like the khejri
you grow within me
like the greening khejri
in the sandy vast
from you I sprout
like the dense new leaves!
the fall winds, dry
will one day shed me,
and these drought sighs
Nand Kishore Acharya
The girl to her
If only those that can leave behind
Their devoted wives and the bond of love
And compassion and consideration
Can be termed stout of heart
Let him cam the vaulted title!
And let me get the sobriquet
Of the scatter-brain, I shall not mind!
The friend to the girl who is anguished at the signs that the
husband intends to journey to distant lands :
On the slope of the hill, the kadamba tree Brings
forth clusters of flowers with a whorl. Your
forehead, dear, gives off the same Sweet perfume
as the kadamba bloom. Which young man will
His loving wife in the height of Spring
Condemned to a life of lonely tears!
If he goes, you go with him!
If one can
tell the morning from
The noon and the evening and the hours of the night
When the whole world falls fast asleep,
Then one is not in love, for certain.
And if to mount a palm-leaf horse and move ....
Sringarapadyavali - Part 2